Harry Potter and the Path to Nowhere

Choices

How's everybody doing today? Who's ready for another chapter? I'm stoked to see so many people enjoying my stories, really motivates me to keep writing. If you like my work and want to support me, check out my Pa-tre-on/swoleandnerdy. Patrons can read up to Chapter 4. Shameless plug out of the way, please enjoy the story.

Harry found himself in another strange place. At this point it was par for the course. Fall asleep, end up somewhere unexpected and unpleasant. The only real question at this point was how bad would it be?

Sometimes, it was fine, nothing happening, nothing too strange or alien. Nothing made much sense, of course, nothing in this world ever did. But it didn't make him question his own sanity.

And other times...

Well, let's just say, he was looking at weird in the rear-view mirror. Why butterflies needed necks like a giraffe he still didn't understand.

But at this moment, it was a bit more of the former. He was in some kind of garden, with beautiful roses and bushes, all trimmed up neatly. Trees full of fruit swaying in the gentle breeze, bringing with it a sweet scent. A fountain sprayed crystal clear water high into the sky, creating a rainbow, as the sun shone brightly overhead, filling him with warmth.

It was, by far, the nicest place he had ever woke up in. That fact alone should have put him on edge. But instead, he dropped his guard, and loosened his usually tight grip on his paranoia.

He gingerly walked further into the mystical garden, enjoying the feel of the lush, green grass between his toes. It was even better than the Dursley's freshly mowed lawn. Of course, Harry was the one who mowed it, with an old fashioned push mower. Perhaps that colored the experience the wrong way.

Above him, soaring in the blue sky, birds of red and green frolicked and sang an enchanting melody. They seemed to play a game of tag, chasing each other merrily. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the sight. He was always jealous of birds and their freedom, but at this moment, he was only happy for them.

As he continued on through the garden, a sad sound echoed through the area. Like someone crying. Curious, he followed, taking a winding path, with smooth rocks spaced evenly on the ground to guide him.

After a few moments, he came to an open area, with even more beautiful flora, and brilliantly shaped bushes. They looked exactly like children, raising their hands to the sky.

They looked exactly like children...

Alarm bells rang in his head at the observation. He'd been to enough places in this world to realize things aren't always what they seemed. Or in this case, they may be exactly what they seemed.

Before he could ruminate on that thought, a breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowering fruit. And just like that, his worries were forgotten. There was no reason to be so paranoid, they were just bushes after all. Bushes that someone took an awful lot of time to shape. He should just appreciate the artwork.

So he did, approaching them, with a smile. They really were lovely. But then, a sob, quiet but carried by the wind, drew his attention away. That's right, he was following a noise. Someone was upset and crying.

Harry always had a need to help people, probably in the vain hope that by doing so, someone would eventually come around to help him as well. But no one ever did. He was left alone, to suffer quietly in the dark of his cupboard.

Looking around for the source, a path seemed to open of its own accord. Or was it there the whole time? And did the flowers look a bit droopy? Rubbing his eyes and looking once more, the wilting flowers he thought he saw were now vibrant and full again.